


A Large Unfriendly Murder Droid

by sprocket



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Humor, Kink Meme, Partnership, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-19 16:09:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16537859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sprocket/pseuds/sprocket
Summary: When they told Andor to "make friends" they didn't mean literally.





	A Large Unfriendly Murder Droid

**Author's Note:**

> Old kinkmeme fill for this prompt: <http://rogueonekink.dreamwidth.org/1084.html?thread=585788#cmt585788>
> 
> _Cassian finally turns up on base, two weeks late, with a hell of a black eye, an arm that needs rebreaking to be set properly, and an Imperial security droid. Said droid is following Cassian around like a large, sarcastic, metal puppy._
> 
> _Several Rebellion leaders are (to put it diplomatically) Less Than Thrilled. When they told Andor to "make friends" they didn't mean literally._

Most of the Rebellion's agents worked well alone, but better with a partner. Not young Cassian. It should not have been a surprise when Shara Bey returned from the pickup short one intelligence agent; Sergeant Dameron rubbed his head, abashed, at the debrief, as he and Bey reported in. "Said he wanted to let things play out a little longer, sir," Bey said, at a species of parade rest as she solved the problem of addressing General Draven or Mon Mothma's aide, a Mon Cal woman, by looking exactly between them. 

"Don't take it too hard, Lieutenant," Draven told her. "Intelligence agents play fast and loose with timetables, it's part of the job." _Not_ part of the job, he reflected, was running through potential partners like a card-sharp flashing a fancy sabbac shuffle. "Did he set up a new rendezvous?"

"Nosir," she said, shifting from foot to foot. "He said he'd use the op codes on the usual channels, sir."

Draven suppressed a sigh. _That_ was pure freelancing. "Very well. Dameron, you're due for some leave, finish your report and take a few days off. Report to General Cracken in three days." Dameron lit up, looking at Lieutenant Bey at this news. No wonder Andor had thrown this one back; he had the mental and physical toughness the Rebellion badly needed in their field agents, but such transparency would be a major liability for an intelligence agent. He'd have a drink with Airen and see if the Pathfinders needed a likely recruit. "Dismissed, both of you."

Andor didn't call in the next day or the next week; it was two weeks to the day when an Imperial shuttle hypered into the system. "General, it's Captain Andor," one of the techs working the comm boards reported. She frowned as the rest of the transmission came through. "Clear codes, sir. No other lifesigns. He's requesting a landing pad."

Draven made it to the landing zone in time to see Cassian stiffly walking down the stolen shuttle's ramp, not quite leaning on - "oh, kriff," someone said, and half the personnel in the bay turned, safeties clicking off blasters, to confront the KX-series droid that loomed behind Captain Andor.

Andor paused on the ramp, the droid pausing too, and regarded the scene with a slightly sardonic eye. "K2's with me," he said. The tension in the room ebbed noticeably, blasters finding their way back to holsters.

"You could have said something, Cassian," someone shouted; Melshi, Draven guessed.

"Radio discipline," Cassian said, not raising his voice.

"Well, _kriff_ radio discipline when you have an _Imperial intelligence droid_ with you."

The droid's optical sensors flickered. "Former Imperial intelligence droid, thank you," it said. "Cassian has reprogrammed me so I no longer serve the Empire. If I did, many of you would not be alive to continue this conversation." At this, Andor rubbed a stubbled cheek, obscuring what Draven suspected was a smirk.

Draven sighed as Andor made his way out of the landing bay, his usual don't-look-at-me act overshadowed by the two meter tall droid that trailed him, saying, "is this the way to the medical facilities? Cassian, human arms are not designed to be unseated from the shoulder module..." as the bay doors closed.

Medical was generally close-mouthed with the details of patient cases, which stopped the rumor mills not at all. The droid K-2SO had no such concerns about patient confidentiality, and was capable not only of recording every stray remark the med team uttered in its prodigious hearing, but also of analyzing data stored and gathered on the fly, blithely asking if a bacta dip of 22 minutes was standard, or reflected a shortage of available supplies; what humans ate when ration bars were unavailable; what most tasted like meiloorun melon and was available on the Rebel base.

"I didn't know you liked meiloorun," Draven remarked to Cassian during the debrief.

Cassian shrugged, and turned the topic back to the report. The K2 unit didn’t ask about the fruit again. 

A good spy blended in, presenting to the unsuspecting a persona that might have little or nothing to do with the agenda being pursued. Cassian's droid - it quickly became clear the droid might be self-directing, and ostensibly interested in working toward the Rebellion's goals, but preferred to associate with only one person on base - turned heads every time it entered a room, heads that quickly learned to track several feet down to Cassian. It was less skilled in deception than young Kes Dameron, and had a serious deficit in its tact circuits. 

What the droid _was_ , Draven realized eventually, was relentlessly, unconsciously, _obnoxiously_ honest.

"There is a 34 percent chance you'll burn yourself if you weld the seal from that angle, Cassian," the droid said one day, not-so-helpfully trailing Cassian and one of the repair techs who were elbows-deep in a B-wing repair job.

The tech craned her neck. "Your droid has a point," she said to Cassian. "Step over a bit, you'll get a better angle if you come from under the engine block. Maybe get it to hold some of those tools."

"I'm not Cassian's droid," K2 let its hands fall to its sides, with an air of limp disconnection Draven would have sworn no droid could have managed. But then, before joining the Rebellion, he never would have imagined anyone would keep a droid as intransigent, capricious, and downright rude as General Syndulla's astromech. Yet General Syndulla hadn't announced any plans to decommission the little ankle-nipper. "I'm sure he can get his own tools if he wants them."

"Kay, hand me the hydrospanner - the other one, that's it," Cassian said, without looking up.

"It's the wrong size," K2 said, but appropriated the tech’s toolbox and gave it to him anyway.

Draven let his people manage their personal lives, so long as their personal lives didn't become a professional hazard. So far, Cassian had come back from his missions bloodied and bruised, body and spirit both, but he’d come back. The same wasn’t true of some of those who had gone out with the standard precautions, such as a handler in comm contact. Still, it was a bloody relief that, as ridiculous a pair as they made, his best agent had _someone_ , even that droid, watching his back.


End file.
